Draco Dormiens-- the gender bender version
by The Travelers Incognito
Summary: ... or, Draco Dracianna. Based on Cassandra Claire's "Draco Dormiens"--- when a polyjuice potion goes wrong, Harry and Draco get stuck looking like each other. But what if Draco's really a girl?!
1. Harry Discovers the Joys of Girls' Undie...

Draco Dormiens- the Gender Bender Version

or: Draco Dracianna

By: The Travelers Incognito

(original storyline belongs to Cassandra Claire. {Sorry for mutilating your story!} All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except for Dracianna, who exists only in Harry's fantasies and in our fanfics. The "Draco is a Girl" idea belongs to Gwen-Heifer the Ditzy Cow, who gave us permission to use it.)

  
  
  


Chapter 1: Harry Discovers the Joys of Girls' Undies

  
  


"All right, you disgusting toads. This is a polyjuice potion." Professor Snape glared out at the class of squirming Slytherins and Gryffindors he was teaching. He held up a little vial with chunky-looking yellowish liquid in it. "Many of you, considering the microscopic size of your craniums," (he glanced pointedly at Harry and Ron, who were sitting together) "may have never heard of this kind of potion. Can anyone here tell me what it does?"

Hermione, as usual, raised her hand and waved it fervently. Snape ignored her. On the Slytherin side of the room, Draco was squirming away from Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting so close to him that a strand of hair could not pass between them. Crabbe and Goyle drooled on each other happily and scratched their heads.

"Anyone?" Snape asked. Hermione flapped her hand in the air violently. "Besides Miss Granger?" Snape said, giving her a withering look.

Ron, fuming at Snape's apathy toward Hermione, raised his hand. Harry raised his too, tentatively.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," spoke Snape. "This ought to be interesting. What is polyjuice potion used for?"

"It... um... turns you into... uh... someone else?" quoth Ron, looking at Hermione for support.

"Brilliant observation, Weasley," Snape commented dryly. "Yes, polyjuice potion, as Mr. Weasley so brilliantly put it, makes the person who drinks it turn into someone else. Say young Draco here," he gestured to Draco, who had put a stack of books on each side of his seat so Pansy couldn't sit there, "wanted to take on the appearance of Mr. Gregory Goyle." (Goyle grunted at the mention of his name and grinned stupidly.) "To do this, Mr. Malfoy would take a body part of Mr. Goyle and place it in the already brewed potion." 

Ron snickered, imagining Draco cutting off Goyle's arm and putting it in a bubbling cauldron. Hermione shushed him.

"No, Mr. Weasley, I do not mean the kind of body part your doubtlessly twisted little mind is thinking of," Snape growled. "I mean a strand of hair, or a fingernail. Something of that sort. Now, I want you to get the feel of this potion before trying to brew it yourselves, which is why I have already made a portion of it for everyone in this class. You will each find a partner and put one of his hairs in your potion, then drink it. I have only made a very small serving for each student, so the change should last only a few moments. Now, find a partner, everyone."

Ron and Harry began inching toward each other, but Snape noticed and separated them. "I think perhaps Mr. Potter should try branching out a bit today, hmm?" He assigned Draco as Harry's partner.

Harry was miserable. "Ugh, Potter. I certainly don't want to turn into you," Draco sneered. "I suspect the experience will give me nightmares."

"Oh, so you'd rather spend some quality time with your little girlfriend?" Harry asked, indicating with his head Pansy Parkinson, who was gripping the arm of a very unhappy Seamus Finnigan and making cow eyes at Draco.

Draco shuddered. "How can I choose, you're both so delightful."

"Now," Snape cried, rousing the class by flapping his unkempt robes ferociously, "place the hairs in your potion and drink it. And hurry, because class is nearly over."

Harry reluctantly plucked a hair from his head and gave it to Draco. "Rather greasy, isn't it?" the latter remarked, handing Harry a hair in return. "I know I shall feel sick after drinking this." Draco made a face an took a dainty sip of his potion. "Yuck. Essence of Potter."

Harry grumbled something under his breath and drained his beaker of potion in one gulp. At once, he could feel the weird sensation of the polyjuice at work. His nose was growing smaller, and his skin was getting lighter. The hairs on his arms were turning whitish-blond. Draco, on the other side of the table, had one green eye and chunks of black hair growing out of his head.

"Here." Harry handed Draco his glasses. "I don't need them anymore."

"Oh, lovely," Draco/Harry said, squinting at his new reflection in the glass. "I look just like you. Well, like you did." He pushed the glasses up his nose and admired Harry, now looking like Draco. "I must say, Potter, it's a great improvement in your features."

"Oh, shut it. I say, why haven't we begun to change back yet?" They looked around the classroom. Everyone else was either back to their normal appearance or close. Ron/Hermione had bushy brown hair and a gigantic nose with freckles on it, while Seamus still harbored Pansy's singular eyebrow stretching across his forehead.

"Did you do something to that potion, Potter?" Draco asked angrily. "Am I going to end up looking like you for the rest of my life?"

"No," Harry told him hostilely. "D'you think I'd want to be stuck in your body?"

"Yes. I bet you're jealous, Potter. Can't wait to be someone who actually doesn't look like a mountain troll, eh?" But Draco, too, sounded nervous.

"Look, I don't know what you did, but undo it now!" Harry exclaimed, raising his fists.

Draco backed away from him. "Don't have a screaming fit, Potter."

"I WANT MY BODY BACK! Give it back!" Harry/Draco lunged forward and tripped over one of the many books that had been Draco's shield from Pansy. He fell onto a desk, and, banging his head hard against one of its corners, was knocked unconscious. 

  
  


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When Harry awoke, he was lying in a rather lumpy bed, and someone was rubbing his face with a watery substance that didn't smell very good. "Umph," he growled, looking up at the perpetrator of the stuff on his face. "Whassat?"

"Oh, Anna dearest! I was so worried," said the woman who was grinding the fetid washcloth into his forehead. "I've been trying to wake you up with smelling salts for hours." 

Harry was extremely confused for a while. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he'd seen her. She was worried now, but before she had looked like she was disgusted at something. Wait... he knew. She'd been in the stands of the quidditch world cup match. Next to... Lucius Malfoy? The events of the day rushed back to Harry. He was in the Malfoy mansion, and still in Draco's body!

"Anna," Draco's mother- Narcissa, was it?-- asked, "are you quite alright? You look rather shocked."

"Anna?" Harry queried. "I thought my name was Draco. Isn't it?"

Narcissa sighed. "Oh dear, it's as I feared." She got up and yelled out the door. "LUCIUS! Come down here! Dracianna's having another identity crisis!"

Lucius Malfoy, his hair pristinely gelled into a large blondish chunk on his head, strode peevishly into the room. He walked over to Harry and glared down at him. "Yes, what is it, Draco? Whatever is wrong this time? They took you out of school, didn't they? Are you going insane, boy?"

"Oh, Lucius, don't call her Draco. You know it confuses her," Narcissa told him. 

"Why do you keep calling me a she?" Harry said dazedly. "I'm not one."

"You see, Lucius? You see?" Narcissa cried, stamping her foot. "You see where this has gotten her? She doesn't even know who she is anymore! She should learn to accept herself as who she is, not have to bow to your chauvinistic ideals!"

Lucius ignored her and patted Harry on the head. "Good lad, Draco. Don't listen to your mother. You are a boy, or at least you will be, when you turn eighteen and that operation is legal. You don't need to worry about a thing."

"What do you mean I will be a boy?" asked Harry. "What operation? I'm not a girl! Am I?" He suddenly realized that something strange on his chest was being bound in by a bunch of extremely tight elastic. "Oh my god," Harry whispered. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl!" he rushed into the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door.

"Damn it, Narcissa!" Lucius bellowed.

"Don't blame me!" shrieked Narcissa. "It's your own fault! You gave another X chromosome!"

"Don't remind me," Lucius snarled.

In the bathroom, Harry had discovered that underneath the elastic he was wearing a lacy black bra, which was actually a rather large size and, surprisingly, fit well. "Bloody hell," he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror. 

"Draco! Come out of that bathroom at once!"

"I'm a girl???"

"Stop shouting at the poor dear! Stop I say!"

"Draco's a girl???"

"Narcissa, dear, stay out of this!"

"YUCKY!!!"

Harry stared at himself/Draco/what-was-her-name."Damn, does Draco have big boobs."

"Dracianna," Narcissa's musical voice floated through the door and into the pink (pink?) bathroom where Harry/Draco stood in front of a large mirror. "Dear. Please come out. Your father is so sorry for frightening you."

"Narcissa, If you keep coddling the boy, he'll never turn out straight!"

"How could she? Always wondering if she were a boy or a girl?"

"Don't be disgusting! That's not what I meant!!!"

Draco had been a girl all this time? All the mean comments to him, Ron and Hermione were made by a girl? Boy, would Ron be in for a joke! Not that Harry was in any condition to tell Ron at this very moment. Especially since he had two lunatics who didn't agree on his gender, one of which would kill him if he knew who "Dracianna" really was, right outside his door.

"Oh dear," said Harry, feeling rather woozy from the tight bindings around his bra and the horrible shock of suddenly being a girl. "I believe I am going to faint." And he clutched the pink and fluffy roman pillar (What the bloody hell?) dizzily.

"NO YOU ARE NOT!!!" came Lucius's voice from outside the bathroom door "Come out right now, Draco! MANLY MEN DO NOT FAINT! Come out this instant, or I'll break down the door!"

"But I'm in my undies!" Harry cast around for his discarded clothing. Sad really: why do girls cover these things up? I wonder if Hermione... nah, Draco's much hotter. Oh my god, am I attracted to Draco? Harry jerked on some clothes just as the door to the pink bathroom opened with a bang.

  
  


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A/N: Yes, yes, if we'd really wanted to set Harry and Draco up we could have done a slash. But we didn't, and that's not because we have anything against slashes or same-sex pairing, it's just because neither Harry nor Draco have ever shown any signs of being gay, and it's MUCH more fun to imagine Draco as a girl. So leave us alone!  



	2. Lucius Malfoy and the Toaster Incident

Chapter 2: Lucius Malfoy and the String Bean Incident

  
  
  
  
  
  


"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Marcus, look out!!" Crabbe, his broom out of control as usual, was barreling toward Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team. The Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were practicing on the quidditch field, and it was Harry- or should we say Dracianna- who had screamed the ear-splitting warning.

Ron and Hermione, standing nearby to watch, looked at her strangely. "What's wrong?" Ron asked. Dracianna, biting her fingernails in distress, ignored him and stared worriedly at the heap on the ground that was now Crabbe and Flint. "He's a Slytherin, Harry," Ron rebuked. "Why're you being so wanky? It's funny when Crabbe screws up."

"Oh... yeah," 'Harry' said, faking a laugh. "Those stupid old Slytherins. Heh. Heh."

Hermione handed Dracianna Harry's firebolt. "You should practice too, Harry. You've already wasted a lot of time standing there, and we have homework tonight."

"Right," said Dracianna dubiously.

"Even if our whole team didn't practice at all, we'd still beat Slytherin into the ground, eh, Harry?" Ron snickered. "Now that they've lost their precious seeker." He grinned. "You know, I still can't forget how funny it was when Draco went running at you and knocked himself on the nob. God, could you be any more stupid?"

Dracianna glared at him. "Don't insult m- uh, Draco! You filthy muggle-lover! I mean- um- Ron, old chum."

"Why so kindly towards Draco all of a sudden?" Hermione queried.

"Yeah," Ron added angrily. "I don't get it, Harry. Is he your best friend now, or something? Every time I've insulted him today, you've gone off in his defense."

"Well," Dracianna declared, suddenly getting a (she thought) brilliant idea, "I've always admired Draco, to tell you the truth."

Ron and Hermione's jaws dropped.

"I mean, he's so accomplished. So suave. So debonair and handsome. He IS very handsome, you know. Quite attractive. He could almost be a model."

"You think Draco's attractive?" Hermione shrilled.

Ron, however, was looking thoughtful. "Harry," he said softly, "are you gay?"

"WHAT?"

"Are you gay?"

"NO! DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!" Dracianna shrieked, aghast.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," Ron told her. "My brother Bill is, and there's nothing wrong with it."

"Your brother's gay?" Dracianna chortled. "Oh, god, Weasley, the whole school's going to hear about this! Ha! Ha! Ha! Not only is your father a muggle-lover, but his little baby boy is-- um, er, uh, that is, ah, um, well..."

"Harry, what is wrong with you?" Hermione cried. "How can you talk to Ron that way?!"

"Nothing's wrong with me," Dracianna told her, looking very shifty. "And I'm not gay."

"You were walking like a girl all through history of magic," Ron said.

"I told you! There was a bee in my pants! I was walking like that so I wouldn't get stung!"

"And you asked me for chapstick," Hermione added.

"What's a little chapstick among friends?!" argued Dracianna.

"And you checked one of the Prefects out during dinner."

"I did NOT check him OUT!" Dracianna protested loudly.

"You were looking at his butt, Harry."

"The first step to accepting yourself the way you are is admitting that you like boys," Hermione informed her. 

"Just because I like boys doesn't mean I'm gay!" Dracianna yelled. A few people on the quidditch field turned and stared. Hermione trained her famous "Professor-McGonagall-with-PMS" look on them and they ran away.

"Are you bisexual then, Harry?" asked Ron in a psychiatrist voice.

"NO! I'M JUST A NORMAL GIRL!!" Dracianna bellowed. "I mean, um, a normal boy. I'm a boy." 

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "Maybe he's a cross-dresser?" Hermione suggested.

"Maybe he's off his rocker," Ron commented dryly.

"I'm not crazy!" cried Dracianna. "I'm not! I'm not!"

"What are you, then?" Hermione quizzed.

"I... I'm... uh.... I'm Draco Malfoy."

Ron glanced at Hermione and tapped his temple with his forefinger. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, Draco is effeminate, but this is a bit much," she said.

"I'M NOT HARRY! I'M DRACO! AND I'M A GIRL!" Again quite a lot of people gave them frightened looks. "Now, you may find it hard to believe," Dracianna continued, "but I really am. You see, my father bought me my own private bedroom and shower in Slytherin so no one would find out. It's because he can't reproduce anymore and he's supposed to have a boy to continue the Malfoy bloodline."

"Harry's insane," said Ron to Hermione. "Completely crackers."

"I am not! Piss off, Weasley! My father may've had a girl when he was supposed to have a boy, but at least he doesn't have a ruddy cow for a wife and five thousand kids he can't afford to feed!"

Ron's face grew red and he growled. "He sounded rather Draco-like there, you must admit," Hermione noted. 

"See, so I'm really a girl named Dracianna pretending to be a boy named Draco, except now I'm in Harry's body because the polyjuice potion never stopped working," Dracianna informed them. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to get my own body back, and you two gits aren't helping me any. So: cheerio. It's been a scream." She/he got up and began walking toward Hogwarts.

"What is he doing now?" Hermione groaned.

Ron looked puzzled. "I dunno. Maybe he is Draco. That thing he said about my dad sure sounded like him." Ron pounded his fist into his hand. "Little bastard."

Hermione rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "He's snapped. He really has. It's not healthy for a person to be wanted dead by a powerful dark wizard. And he has to live with those people every summer. One too many times, that's all it was. He's mentally unstable."

"At any rate, we've got to follow him," Ron sighed.

"Harry! I mean... um, uh... 'Draco,' honey," Hermione called after what she thought was a rather addled Harry "Wait up! We'll help you through it! We're your friends! We'll help you!"

"Yeah!" piped up Ron "I know this really great counselor- he helped loads when Percy thought he was a gnome--" Dracianna/Harry whirled around.

"I. AM. NOT! HARRY. OR CRAZY," she pronounced loudly for them. "Honestly, Granger, if you're so smart, why haven't you figured it out by now?"

"Well- ah- 'Draco'- erm, let's go inside, shall we? Maybe take a visit to nice, kind, caring Madam Pomfrey?" Dracianna/Harry looked at her in disgust and marched off.

"Why don't you let me try, Hermi? I've got a plan." Ron pulled out his wand.

"Ron, need I remind you last time you tried to put a spell on Draco (if indeed, this is Draco) you ended up spewing slugs all day?"

"Oh untwist your panties, Miss Worry Knickers, I'm just going to put a straight jacket on him (I wonder, if he's gay, maybe it would be a zig-zag jacket......hmm)."

"Ron," Hermione warned. But, as usual, it was too late. Dracianna/Harry lay in heap on the ground, twisting her way towards the castle, away from Ron and Hermione, who picked her/him/it up and carried him/her/it back into the Gryffindor Dorms and into Hermione's empty bed chamber.

"I must admit I always wanted to know what the girls dorms looked like... I mean, uh, if you don't let me go this instant, I will use dark magic on both of you!" he/she/it yelled.

Ron was sincerely worried. "Hermione, do you think he's really lost it?" Hermione shook her head in bewilderment.

"I don't know Ron, I don't know. I hope he'll be okay." Dracianna/Harry/it thrashed around on the bed, trying to free itself. Ron started to cry.

"H-he was my b-b-b-best fr-friend! H-he (hiccup) w-was the only one w-who would b-b-b-b-b-be f-friends with m-me on the f-first day-- " and Ron spontaneously broke into sobs. Dracianna did her best to wiggle out of the tight hug Ron had put her in.

"Now, now, there, there Wea-- ah-- Ron. It's okay, erm, calm down. That's right, deeeeeeeep breaths." Ron sniffled maddeningly. Dracianna attempted a brave smile, but that set Ron off again. Over his wails ("Poor Harry! Gone at such a young age! Waaaaaaaaah!") Hermione attempted a conversation.

"So- you really think you're Draco Malfoy."

"Yes. Dracianna Malfoy, in fact. I'm a girl."

"What will we do without him? You-know-who will take over the world! Waaaaaaaah!" Ron interjected.

"Erm. I find that kind of hard to believe, do you mind explaining?" Hermione said. "Ron, please don't blow your nose on my pillow case."

"God, Granger, if I must. You'd think you would have pieced it together by now."

"Humor me, Ha- I mean Draco- I mean.... uh...." He/she/it smiled snidely. Ron continued to wail into Hermione's pillow.

"Well you see, the Malfoy name is a very powerful tool, as we are an exceptionally powerful family. My father is the last male blood Malfoy- besides me. But the Malfoy line has to have a boy as an heir or else it won't continue, that's one of our family rules. And my father has an- um- condition that makes it- er- rather difficult to have any more children...."

"Poor lad! Poor, poor lad! Poor, po-" wailed Ron, until Hermione cracked him on the head with a lamp.

"And...?" she prodded.

"It's rather nasty... do I have to say it?" At Hermione's nod, Dracianna continued. "Well, my mum gets a mite overexcited sometimes, and, well, father was hitting on one of our maids once and mum found out and started screaming at him. They had a dreadful row, and eventually mummy started throwing things. She threw a carton of milk at him, which got him really wet, and then she unplugged a toaster and threw it, and, uh... well, um... it, er... it, well, it hit him in a... uh... kind of a... um... sensitive spot. And the velocity of the toaster mixed with the electricity it still had and the milk... um... it... um..." Dracianna made a disgusted face. "Well, um, the doctor said it got shaved down to the size of a string bean."

"It was the size of a string bean?" Hermione repeated weakly, feeling rather ill.

"Yup. Mum keeps the toaster on her mantle. She's very proud of herself." 

"Lucius Malfoy's John Thomas is the size of a string bean?!" Ron exclaimed, having suddenly recovered from the whack to his head and his crying fit at the same time. 

"A little shorter, actually, but as skinny as one, yes," Dracianna replied calmly.

"How do you know, have you seen it?" Ron cried disgustedly.

"NO! He's my bloody FATHER! There is no inbreeding in my family, thank you very much. Whereas the fact that both your mother and father have red hair might signify that-"

"Not another word, you sodding bastard!" Ron snarled, clenching his fists. Hermione patted his arm. "How do you know the size, then? Eh, you willie-observing pervert?"

"I heard the kitchen maids discussing it, okay? End of discussion, Weasley!"

Ron looked horrified and pukey at the same time. "It got chopped and burned off and he still... eeeeeeeeeeeeewww."

Hermione shuddered. 

"No one said he had to take a vow of celibacy just because-" Dracianna started, but Hermione gave her a look and she shut up.

"How does you being dressed up as a boy figure into all this?" she asked.

"Oh, so you finally believe me?"

"Well, to put it bluntly, Harry's not, well, he's a little, um," Hermione searched for a word, "...he's not very imaginative or, um, bright, and so I think that he wouldn't be able to make up a story like the one you've just told us."

"Not to mention that he's a very bad actor," Ron added, still green in the face from thinking about what Lucius did with his scorched... uh... let's not go into that, shall we? "He always tries to pretend he doesn't still fancy that Choo-Chung or Chang-Chong or whatever, but it's painfully obvious that he does."

"Chang-Chung?" Dracianna asked eagerly, hoping for more teasing material.

"I'm sure Harry's love life is a delightful subject as well," Hermione cut in severely."But we're not here to talk about that, are we now?" She raised her eyebrows pointedly at Dracianna who made a pouty face.

"Damn. No more information on Potter's Passion. But anyhow, the reason I'm dressed up as a boy is this: Father would be completely humiliated if anyone knew he'd failed the Malfoy bloodline. So when he had his- ahem- 'accident', (it took place while Mum was pregnant) he hoped I would be a boy, and when I wasn't, he fooled everyone into thinking I was one. 

"Naturally, he still needs an actual boy, so he's waiting until I'm eighteen and it's legal for me to get a sex change. Then I really will be Draco Malfoy and everything will be peachy. except for me. I like boys, you see. My father says I'll grow out of it, but really... ick."

"What about your darling Pansy-wansy?" Ron said nastily, crossing his arms. "You like her, don't you?"

"Bloody sodding hell, no!" Dracianna replied vehemently. "She SCARES me! And looking at her smarmy face is enough to kill even someone with iron nerves. She always tries to get me to kiss her, and I'm always, er, 'struck by a sudden burning pain in my spleen' and have to be rushed to the infirmary."

"Yeah, that would probably be my reaction, too," Ron told her.

Hermione was looking pensive. "So, if you're really Draco in Harry's body, then Harry would be in your body, and at your house? And probably in shock after realizing you're a girl?"

Dracianna squirmed, realizing the significance of what Hermione was saying. "Oh, eeewww. Potter's in my body. Oh my god! What if he has to go to the bathroom? What if he has to change clothes? What if he- he- has to take a shower? Oh my god! Oh my GOD!"

Ron began to giggle. "Say, Draco, what size cup are you? I bet Harry'd really-"

"RON!" Hermione screamed. He apologized shamefacedly, promising her that he wasn't in the least attracted to Draco and was only interested in her bra size for scientific reasons, and besides, it was funny.

"Oh my god... what if I have to go to the bathroom?" Dracianna whispered. "Oh, shit! Shit! If I want to pee I'll have to... urg... I'll have to touch it. Oh YUCK! ICKICKICKICKICKICKICKICK!! Errrrglaaaack. AAA! I do have to pee! Oh nooo! But- but- but- I don't wanna see Harry's weenie." She began to snivel pitifully. 

"Close your eyes," Hermione remarked sagely. "Ron will help you."

"No way!" Dracianna and Ron shouted at the same time. "I don't want Weasley to see me naked!" "I don't want to see Harry- er- Draco- naked!" 

"Block it from your minds afterwards, then," Hermione said. "I am not having Draco wet his-um- her pants while we're on the train."

"Train?" Dracianna inquired.

"The train to your house," informed Hermione. "You don't think we'd just let you stay Harry forever, did you? We're going to rescue him and put you two right."

Ron and Dracianna looked at each other apprehensively. "Off you go, then." Hermione nudged them toward the door. Dracianna whimpered and widened her eyes in supplication. Ron made furious 'no!' gestures with his hands. However, Hermione stared them down, and after she removed Dracianna's straightjacket, the two lumped unhappily off to the loo.

When they returned, Ron was visibly nonplused and Dracianna was nauseated. "He peed all over the floor," Ron said.

"Hey! These things are hard to master!" Dracianna retorted. 

"Did I tell you to try pissing standing up? No, I didn't. You thought of that all on your own. And you peed on the floor."

"It just gave me a bit of a shock. What with it looking so much like a bloody sausage and all," Dracianna told them, shamefaced. 

Hermione began hitting her head methodically against the table. "I did NOT want to know that!"

"Oh, so you excepted that everyone's manly part would be tiny like your father's, eh?" Ron sneered.

"No, Weasley! I just hadn't seen one before. The only picture I ever saw was in my 'Huey the Hamster Teaches About Reproduction' book, and that was a very poor rendering."

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione cut in."All right, that's enough! I have HAD IT with this discussion! I have never had any desire to know what kind of meat product Harry's... um... well, what it resembles! I have no idea why you two have some sort of fascination with that sort of thing, but you'd jolly better SHUT IT, or I'll- I'll- I'll turn you both into girls!"

"But Hermiiiii," Ron whined. 

"Not another WORD, Ron. I've got my wand pointed, and all I have to do is find a sex-changing spell."

"Um, there isn't one," Dracianna piped up. "I know, since my father tried to-"

"Don't you start, either!" screeched Hermione. "Or I won't help you and you'll end up staying Harry forever!" 

"That would be scary," said Ron.

"Yes, Ron, it definitely would, since I'd be stuck listening to you two argue about whose reproductive organ looks most like a TOFU DOG!!"

Dracianna backed away from Hermione apprehensively. "It's okay, um, Hermi, hon. All we have to do is just go to the nice little train station and catch one to my house, and then we'll go in and find Harry and everything will be, uh, okie-dokie."

Hermione glared at her. "I am not daft," she growled. "So don't treat me like I am. And you're lucky I'm letting you travel without your straightjacket. Now get ready. I want to leave before nine-thirty."

"Don't mind her," Ron told Dracianna. "She's just jealous because she doesn't get to know the joys of being a man."

"Tell me about it," answered Dracianna. "And I thought jockstraps were just for show..."

  
  


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A/N: Sorry Bill! We only made you gay because our friends kept swooning over you and we wanted them to shut up! 


	3. Nuns, Sausages, and Harry's Disembodied ...

Chapter 3: Nuns, Sausages, and Harry's Disembodied Head

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hey, did you know that Cornelius Fudge is secretly the father of beautiful wizarding movie star Barbaralina Hughabanktudley's half-cow half-human half-dementor nine-headed child?"

"Dracianna, put that down," Hermione scolded. "You ought never to believe anything you read in the 'Daily Gnome.'" At the moment, they were barreling through the countryside on a late-night train out of Hogsmeade.

"But look, it says there's exclusive photos inside!" Dracianna/Harry protested, showing Hermione the front of the tabloid.

"It also says that Harry Potter is secretly engaged to you-know-who," Ron remarked dryly. 

Dracianna shrugged innocently. "It could be true."

Hermione hit her forehead against the wall. "Not another of these discussions."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. The only time Harry is gay is when you're in his body, anyway, stupid."

"Shut up, Weasley. At least I don't have a sibling who's an effeminate little-"

Ron put his hand up to stop her. "Okay, you know what? I've had enough. I am not talking to you anymore." 

"Horrors," Dracianna/Harry smirked, and went back to reading the Daily Gnome. 

Ron made an immature face at her and began looking around the train. "Hmmm." His eye settled on a baggage-laden nun who was making her way down the aisle toward them and he grinned evilly. 

The nun moved closer. Ron's grin widened. Then, at the exact moment when she was right in front of him, he reached out, and-

"YOUNG MAN!! Did you just- just- PINCH ME ON THE BOTTOM?"

"It was Harry!" Ron cried, pointing at Dracianna, who looked up from an article about Viktor Krum's hideous seven-toed alligator alter ego in surprise. 

"You disgusting little fiend! Hellfire will rain down on you! Satan is the possessor of your SOUL!!" screamed the furious nun. Dracianna looked very confused.

Hermione fumed. "Ron, did you just-"

"It was him, I swear!" Ron repeated. Hermione growled.

"You licentious beast! You fiend from the unholy pit!"

Dracianna scratched her head. "Wait, what did I do, again?"

By now everyone on the train was staring at them. "Look, mum, that's 'Arry Potter!" a small child declared.

"'Arry Potter pinched a nun on the bum?!" exclaimed someone else. The crowd began to buzz excitedly.

"Now, wait just a minute, here," Dracianna said, standing up. "For one thing, I did not pinch your bum. I mean, you're a bloody nun! You're not even attractive! And for another-"

"You DEMON!!!" shrieked the nun. "First, you defile my holy person, then you INSULT me! HOW DARE YOU?"

"'Arry? 'Arry, will ye pinch me bum, too?" interjected a scantily-dressed young woman, leaping out of her seat.

Assorted shouts began coming from the female population of the train car, many of whom were rushing up to where Dracianna was standing and throwing themselves in her face.."Yeah! Yeah! Kin I 'ave yer autograph?" "Will you sign me bum?" "Please, 'Arry?" "D'you need a girlfriend? I'll be your girlfriend!" "No, me!" "Me!"

"AAA!!" screamed Dracianna, clambering onto Ron's head in an effort to get away. "Go away! Go away! I don't like girls, do you hear? I BLOODY DON'T LIKE GIRLS! I mean, GOD, people, that's DISGUSTING!"

A hushed silence filled the train car. Many of the girls began to sob. The nun, muttering about the devil's playground, left the car in a huff. Dracianna ran into the bathroom and shut the door.

"Oh Ron, dear," Hermione snarled mock-sweetly.

"Yes...?" he replied apprehensively.

"I think it's time we had a little talk about nuns and their bottoms."

"Um, whatever for, Hermi, hon?" Ron looked frantically for a means of escape as Hermione narrowed in on him, and...

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Toast, Anna dear?" Draco's mum inquired, placing a breakfast tray before Harry's nose.

"Oh, do shut up, Narcissa."

"Why, Lucius, whyever are you so irritable this morning?"

"You're angry at me, I know it," Lucius winced. "You said that- that word again."

"Toast?" Harry was surprised to see Narcissa hiding a devious smile.

Lucius stiffened. "You know we agreed to substitute 'vaguely burnt bread' for the- the word. You know I'm very sensitive about that incident, Narcissa!"

"Oh, really dear. It's all water under the bridge now," Draco's mum scolded, brushing crumbs off the table. "You needn't dwell-"

"What's this about toast and father, mum?" Harry/Dracianna piped up.

"Not a word out of you, boy! You've heard the story bloody enough times from that ass of a doctor, and if you mention it again I'll-"

"Lucius, don't upset the poor girl!"

Draco's father grumped to himself and glared at Harry, who was staring at his breakfast innocently. "I suppose I'm just having a rotten morning," he sighed. "It's that Potter brat, all over the ruddy papers again. I can't even go one day without having to see his ugly face plastered on everything."

Harry made an indignant face at being called ugly. "I- uh- Harry Potter's in the papers?"

"Yes. See for yourself." Lucius threw a copy of the Daily Prophet down on the table. 

Narcissa picked it up and began to read. "Oh my. Oh dear. Darling, did you-? Oh my."

"What? What does it say, mum?" Harry asked, trying to snatch it from her.

"Really, I never had the slightest inkling..." Narcissa wondered to herself as Harry grabbed the paper out of her hands. 

"What..." he began as he surveyed the headline. "AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! MY REPUTATION! MY BLOODY REPUTATION!"

Under a smiling picture of Harry's face was the caption, in large bold letters, "THE BOY WHO LIVED: GAY?"

Harry threw the paper to the floor and stomped on it. "Dray-CO!! Just wait until I get my hands on that sodding CROSS DRESSER!! I'll- I'll-" he raced from the room.

"Well, he reacted strangely to that," Lucius pondered, staring after Harry/Dracianna in perplexity.

"Really, dear, you put her under too much stress," Narcissa told him, picking up the paper. "Shall I read the article to you? 'Hogsmeade Railways, last night. The famous Mr. Harry Potter was spotted riding a late train with two apparent classmates who have not yet been identified. According to witnesses, Mr. Potter pinched the behind of a nun, and then became rather excited, screaming various phrases such as "I bloody don't like girls!" and "I am a girl, for Christ's sake!" Is the boy who lived really attracted to other boys? Lalandra McDavisheimin reports...'"

  
  


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"Owwwwwie... owwwwwie..." Ron whined, nursing a bruised elbow.

"Sod it, Weasel. Or do you want to get caught by my father?" Dracianna hissed as they approached the Malfoy Mansion.

"Frankly, I think even a bunch of drunken Death Eaters would be more fun than you two ladies when you're pissed," Ron yelped as Hermione and Dracianna both smacked him. Again.

"I'm glad you think so, because there's a gathering tonight, if I remember correctly," Dracianna replied.

"A WHAT?" Hermione shrieked.

"Shhhh!" Dracianna shushed, glaring. "There's going to be a Death Eater meeting tonight. I only hope we can switch bodies before it..." She took out her wand was they neared the fence-like hedge near the front door. "Tu salchicón es una judia de cuerda," whispered Dracianna, pointing her wand at the front arch.

There was a soft whistling noise and a spray of green sparks. "Come on! It will re-activate in ten seconds!" The three ran through the gate and dove into some topiaries outside the front door very Matrix-esquely. 

"What language was that, Dracianna?" Hermione asked, squatting in a what-she-assumed-was-chipmunk-shaped bush rather uncomfortably. "It doesn't sound like French or Latin... Italian?"

"Spanish, I think. Mum went to Spain for a year once. I'm not sure what it means. Something cryptic and string-bean involved, I'd guess."

"Your father makes all the passwords on his house related to his- er- incapacitation?" Ron inquired.

"No," Dracianna replied. "They were originally all 'Lucius is Luscious,' but Mum figured out how to break the spell and replace them. That's why all the booby traps squirt you with milk and hurl toasters at you, too."

"They do?" Ron asked, visibly very thrilled. "You mean if I had been a second later I would've suffered the same fate as ol' Lucius 'string-bean-in-the-pants' Malfoy?"

"I think the whole idea amuses you way too much, Ron," Hermione informed him.

"Are there any more of them? Traps, I mean," inquired Ron delightedly.

"Yes." Dracianna scratched her head. "There's one over by the garden, if we take the back way- or we could go by way of the hedge maze, but there's at least two in there, plus I'm not sure if I remember how to get through it. Our goal is to reach my bedroom window."

Ron saluted. "Roger."

Hermione looked confused.

"Fred and George enchanted the lavatory mirror to play bad American spy movies," he explained. 

"Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"

"No." Dracianna shook her head.

"Neither do I."

  
  


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Harry smiled weakly at Narcissa Malfoy, who was bending over and dishing him up far too many sausages. (Sausages? For tea?) This would have been no big deal at all, (after all, we are talking about the famous Harry Potter who semi-defeated Voldemort countless times and managed to get a bra on after only three tries) but you see, Narcissa's dress was rather gappy in the neckline and, um, yeah. Of course, Harry wasn't having the normal reaction, being in a girl's body, but he was still a hormonal teenage boy on the inside. Now I know where Draco gets those big-

"Hooters!" exclaimed Lucius Malfoy, a smile covering his face as he came to a revelation. Harry/Dracianna choked on a sausage as Lucius coincidentally finished his train of thought.

"Owls who hoot all the time are called 'hooters'!" Lucius grinned happily, filling in the squares of the Daily Prophet's crossword puzzle.

"Oh, brilliant, darling," Narcissa snapped, sitting down across from Harry. For the second time that day he noticed how much they seemed to sorely dislike each other. And what was all this toast and string bean business? Pondering this, Harry ate as many sausages as he thought Dracianna's girlish constitution could hold before she had to explode or throw up. As soon as he had laid down his fork and knife, Lucius stood up.

"All right then, boy. Time for practise. As long as you're home and- seem perfectly sane, though this morning's incident might suggest otherwise," he raised an eyebrow, "we might as well while away the hours until the party tonight. Pansy will be there, you know."

"Oh, that awful Parkinson girl!" Narcissa looked up from her teacup in irritation. "No, Lucius, she won't be there. Her parents weren't invited."

"What do you mean? I'm sure I invited the Parkinsons."

"And I'm sure I went over the invitations before they were sent out," Narcissa said meaningfully. "Anna hates her, you know that. She's completely horrid. Our daughter needs to meet some nice boys her own age, not-"

"Our son needs nothing of the sort!" Lucius bellowed. "And the next time you defy me, I'll- I'll get the operation done! Illegally! In Mexico!"

"You wouldn't!"

"Yes." Lucius attempted to look foreboding. "I WOULD."

Narcissa stood up, tipping her plate over. "Toaster!" she screamed. "Toaster toaster toaster toaster!" She burst into tears, flung her napkin at him, and ran from the room.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY THAT WORD!" shrieked Lucius at her retreating back. Harry stood quietly and felt very very confused.

"Uh, dad--?"

"Shut your mouth, boy. We're going to practise your fencing." Lucius strode huffily through the room, and Harry followed him through a maze of corridors and rooms until they ended up in a large empty hall with marble floors, gold statues of (Harry assumed) various Malfoy ancestors, and many large windows. On the wall was a rack of swords.

Harry gulped. He had used a sword only once, and the vanquishing of the Basilisk, though he would like to think it was due to his manly strength and cunning, was actually caused by pure dumb luck. Knowing Mr. Never-Say-Toaster here, he'll really try to hit me. Shit, he thought. He's going to kill me! Evil never-dying bad guys? Big ugly snake-things? Silver-handed-bad-guy-cronies? Overgrown lobsters? I'm your man. But psycho dads? Hello! No experience!!!

Just as Lucius handed Harry a sword and started to take the fencing position, there was a rude knock at the door. Lucius turned around crankily. Harry peered through Dracianna's fingers, behind which he'd been hiding.

"Who is it?" Lucius called.

"Ah! Lucius, old man! It's me, Macnair! Can't I come in?" Lucius's eyes widened in fright. Harry/Dracianna wasn't wearing the elastic-flattening contraption; obviously the family hadn't been expecting company so soon.

"Aren't you a little early?" Lucius cried, shoving Harry behind one of the larger and more evil-looking Malfoy family statues. "Stay there," he hissed. 

"Macnair!" exclaimed Lucius, flinging open the door. "Old chum! Old chap! Old bean!" He chuckled nervously.

You know, thought Harry peevishly, if he had let me wear a sports bra for fencing practise, I wouldn't be in this completely awful situation. Then again, I suppose I should use every chance I get to show off my- er- maidenly physique and- uh- generous bosom.

"Sword practise, Lucius?" Macnair grinned in an eelish sort of way. "It's always awfully fun to do swordplay, isn't it? All that stabbing... and slashing... AND CUTTING INTO BITS!!"

"Er-- yes," Lucius assented. Harry recalled that Macnair, if this was the same one, was rather inclined toward violence of any sort.

"Who are you fencing with?"asked Macnair, his head darting unsteadily around on his neck as he peered about the room.

"Um... myself," replied Lucius. "Yes. Just... ah... practising by myself."

"Oh." Macnair looked disappointed. "It's ever so much more fun to practise with an opponent. You can-" his hand twitched involuntarily "-heh heh- stab them."

Lucius looked worried. "Right, old man. Right. Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't I, erm, show you the dining room? You just go out in the hall and wait and I'll- uh- hang up my sword."

"Oh, I don't mind staying-" Macnair started.

"Go out and WAIT in the HALL," snarled Lucius. Macnair went.

"Lu- er- dad?" Harry poked his head out from behind the statue.

"Wait ten minutes," Lucius growled at him. "Then go up to your room, and deal with that." He pointed at Harry's rather obtrusive bust.

"Daddy..." Harry whined, "I don't like the elastic. It's so... so... confining."

"Oh, sod off," grumbled Lucius. "Honestly, Draco, it's disgusting how attached you are to those things." He left.

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"YEEEEAUG!" Hermione fell onto Ron with a loud thump.

"Ermynee, ger gnitting on mne," Ron remarked from his rather squashed position.

"My, my, my," drawled Dracianna, disappointed that her trademark drawl didn't sound half as good coming from Harry's oafish mouth, "this is an interesting display."

"Bnugger goff," Ron replied.

"Sorry, Ron," Hermione said.

"Maybe you could apologise AFTER YOU GET OFF ME," he screeched, managing to free his nose.

Hermione got off. "Come off it, you two. Don't be so immature. Let's try climbing up again."

"The trellace is broken," Dracianna informed her dryly.

"That was you, not me," Hermione retorted.

"Look, I'm usually very light and nimble," she complained, "but young Master H. Potter has been eating too much Christmas pudding, so I'm currently rather heavy."

"That's just muscle," Ron exclaimed defensively.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Harry's very resilient."

Dracianna let out a strangled sort of squeaking noise.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"The maids," she spat, very nonplussed, "say my father is very resilient. They say it makes up for the string bean."

"Oh." Hermione pulled on her hair apologetically. "I didn't realise that."

"Look, could we not talk about it? The subject makes me very uncomfortable!"

"Lucius is resil-" Ron started. Hermione clamped a hand over his mouth. 

"So, what should we do?" she asked.

"I don't know." Dracianna looked around thoughtfully, an odd expression on Harry's face. "Wait, I've got an idea. What if Ron stands under the window, and Hermione stands on Ron's shoulders, and I stand on Hermione's-"

"And Hermione falls on me again, paralysing me for life," Ron interjected, "oh, that would be brilliant."

Hermione and Dracianna hit him consecutively over the head. "Go stand over there, you git. And shut up," Dracianna ordered. "Now, Hermione, climb up on top of him."

"How?" she asked.

"I don't know! Just do it!"

"Oof," remarked Ron. "Hermione, your foot is in my eye."

"Sorry... ow! Dracianna, you're pulling my hair."

"THAT BASTARD!" Dracianna screeched.

Ron and Hermione attempted to look up at her. "What?"

"He's rummaging through my undies!"

Harry looked up from trying to find Dracianna's restraining-bra contraption to see his own disembodied (he thought) head in the window.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!" he let out a very girlish scream.

There was a loud and rather foul string of curses from his head in the window, and a yelp of "OW! Er-my-nee-ee!" could be heard.

"Potter!" cried Harry's head, in an oddly snobby voice which was otherwise exactly like his own. "Help! I'm hanging from the windowpane here!"

A sudden realisation donned on Harry, and none too soon. "Dracianna?"

"What did you sodding think it was, the tooth fairy?"

"Er, my own disembodied head, actually," muttered Harry very softly as he walked over and opened the window.

"Quick, pull me up," Dracianna yelled at him, tightening her grip on the windowpane.

"What about US?" cried a very familiar voice.

"Ron?" Harry exclaimed.

"And Hermione," called Hermione.

"We got dragged along on a madcap rescue," said Ron proudly.

"And Ron pinched a nun on the bmmmf--"

"Shut up! Shut up!" There was a loud crash and a shout of "OUCH!" from below.

"You dragged my friends along on a madcap rescue?" Harry inquired.

"Look," growled Dracianna, struggling to keep her grip, "If you don't help me up I'll wait until you're a boy again and make YOU infertile!"

"But what about Ron and-"

"FORGET BLOODY RON!" Dracianna blared. 

"Hey!" Ron shouted.

"IF YOU DON'T PULL ME UP NOW, POTTER, YOU'RE GOING TO WISH YOU HAD NEVER MIRACULOUSLY SURVIVED THE FIRST TIME YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!"

"Untwist your panties," Harry said. "Honestly. You really like to over-dramatise, don't you?" He pulled her through the windowpane, which was rather difficult because Dracianna's body wasn't very strong in the arms. When she was finally in the room, Harry's minimal strength gave out on him and he found himself lying on the floor under- himself. How disturbing.

"Speaking of panties," said Dracianna/Harry in extreme irritation, "You were rummaging through mine, weren't you?"

"No!" Harry cried, blushing. "I was- looking for your little- er- bra- binding- chest- ah- thingy."

"You stupid dolt. If you weren't so pretty I'd punch you."

"Yeah? Well if I weren't lying on the floor being squished by a poor replica of myself, I'd kick you in my balls!"

"You make a bloody poor girl, you know that? Look at you!" Dracianna yelled, getting off him. "You're wearing my black bra, for god's sake!"

"I'm not the one who had it in my drawer!"

"I'm not the one who found it when he was being a pervert!"

"Do you know what they say about girls who have black underwear?"

"Do you know what they say about boys with GIGANTIC HANDS?"

"I have gigantic hands?" Harry looked strangely pleased.

"And that's not ALL, may I add!" Dracianna fumed. "I should know! I had to take a pee in your disgusting body, you nasty, horrible, sick-- boy!"

"Well at least I know what sex I AM!" Harry countered. "You're so confused you dress up like a boy! It's disgusting! It's wrong! And to make it worse- you're- you're- you're disturbingly attractive when you're a girl!"

Dracianna/Harry turned bright red. 

"Er-" said Harry. He hadn't meant to say that. It had just popped out.

Ron and Hermione, who had been listening very silently from outside the window, began to giggle and make little "ooh-la-la!" noises.

"Look, Potter," Dracianna growled. "I'm only in this so I don't have to use your second rate plumbing to piss ever again. So help me pull your little friends up and then we'll see what we can do about it."

Harry could only nod.

They had gotten Ron and Hermione into the room by way of a couple of sheets and were helping them brush sticks and mud from their recent adventures in the Malfoy Manor garden off themselves when a noise came from the vicinity of the door.

"Anna? Are you all right? I heard shouting."

"Oh, shit!" Dracianna cried. "It's my mum! Quick! Ron, Hermione, into the wardrobe. Potter, you try to get her to go away. I'll hide under the bed."

"Just a second," called Harry charmingly.

"Anna dear, it's near time for the party." Narcissa walked into the room just as Ron and Hermione closed themselves into the wardrobe and Dracianna slipped under the bed. 

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A/N: Sorry this chapter was so long in coming. We're abominably lazy little gits. Oh, and feel free to correct any faulty britishisms we use, because we're only going on assumption and Monty Python movies here.


	4. The Dangers of Hiding in Wardrobes

Chapter 4: Mainly Concerning Hormones

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hallo, Mummy," Harry trilled musically, arranging himself on the bed (under which Dracianna was thumping around and cursing none-too-quietly as she banged her head numerous times).

"Hallo Anna," said Narcissa. "Why are you still in your bathrobe, dear?"

"I like my bathrobe," Harry responded. "Ow!"

Dracianna, who had poked him from under the mattress, could be heard muttering, "Stupid perverted git-- likes my bloody undies so much he has to parade around in them."

"What's that noise?" Narcissa asked, looking around in a puzzled way.

"My stomach," said Harry very quickly. "It's hungry."

"That's probably good, dear," Dracianna's mother informed him. "After all, it is a dinner party . . . Oh, by the way, your father says you're to wear a suit. And, as he very crudely put it," she made a very scornful face, "'ruddy five metres of elastic.'"

Harry looked crushed. "No flowing red evening gown with a low neckline and back? No high heels? No diamond earrings? No-- ow!"

"Sodding cross-dresser," hissed Dracianna. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy being a girl!"

Harry hit the mattress peevishly. "Shut it, you stupid prat!"

"Um, dear," inquired Narcissa, "Whatever are you talking about?" 

"Ah . . ." Harry voiced most intelligently, ". . . er . . . um . . . I was just . . . er . . . talking to, uh, Daddikins-- OW!-- I mean, ah, father, inside my . . . erm . . . head. You see, he said," (Harry puffed himself up, furrowed his brow, and pointed at the floor as if addressing it, attempting to assume the character of Lucius Malfoy) "'Draco, your femininity is getting out of hand! You may NOT wear a dress! You will wear a suit, and tie those things up with a bloody lot of elastic, and come to the party as my bloody SON!!' And I replied (inside my head, mind you) 'Shut it, you stupid prat!'" 

Narcissa looked a bit worried. "Oh. All right then."

"It's a very good method of anger management-- stop it!" he replied as another onslaught of blows came from under the bed.

"Er . . . talking to your father again?" Narcissa assumed.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. Dracianna made a noise located somewhere between a grunt and a snort. Harry pretended it was his stomach.

"Right," said Narcissa. "Well, anyhow, I've told you what you needed to know, so, ah, I'll see you downstairs, then?" She looked a bit perplexed as she exited the room.

"You little idiot," growled Harry, poking his head under the bed. "She could've heard you! Do you realise what they'll do to me if they find out who I AM? Your house is full of bloody DEATH EATERS!! They'll execute me!"

"No skin off my nose, Mr. Boy-Who-Lived-Only-to-Cross-Dress," drawled Dracianna by way of a response. The drawl, once again, was hardly as impressive coming from Harry's rather undrawlworthy vocal chords, but nonetheless, it provoked a reaction.

"Now, wait just a minute here, you--"

"And, Dracianna?" Narcissa popped her head back in the room.

"GAH! Eearg!" Harry panicked and tumbled off the bed as Dracianna bolted back under it.

"If you see Macnair trying to engage me in conversation, dear, could you come and interrupt?" Narcissa asked, studying the pile of bathrobe that was Harry with considerable perplexity. "Make up an excuse to get me away from him, would you? Like a house-elf revolt, or an exploding booby trap, or a werewolf loose in the pantry, or, ah, anything?"

"Why's that?" Harry replied, sitting up and noticing Narcissa's apparent discomfort.

"Oh, Anna, really!" she cried, visibly offended. "Need you even ask?"

"What was that all about?" Harry queried once she'd left the room. 

"Oh." Dracianna clambered out into the open. "Well, Macnair's a nasty old pervert . . . somewhat like yourself, actually. You two'd get along famously, I think."

"I'm not a pervert!" argued Harry vehemently. "I just-- think you'd look nice in a dress."

"What, a flowing red one with a low neckline?" Dracianna exclaimed, turning pink and scowling at him. "Pervert."

"Anyway," Harry said by way of diverting the subject, "why's Macnair a pervert?"

"Because he always, you know, raises his eyebrows and stuff," Dracianna told him. "And makes icky little comments. And chuckles suggestively. The old sod thinks mum'll go around sleeping with the entire Death Eater squad just because father knocked her up when they weren't married."

"You're disturbingly casual about this, you know," Harry commented.

"Well, I've gotten used to it," she replied, smoothing her hair with an air of superiority. 

"Since you've gotten used to it," said Harry, "d'you think you could tell me what all this business is about your father and toasters?"

With much ceremony, Dracianna recounted the tale. Harry's face sported a decidedly revolted expression by the time she was through.

"Glarrr . . . eeeaug . . . nerrrr . . ." he articulated. "The thought of it-- ugh." Harry shuddered.

"I don't see why it bothers you so much," Dracianna remarked. "After all, if you were in the same situation, the worst damage a toaster could do is shave it down to a somewhat normal size."

Harry turned bright vermillion. "It's normal sized already!"

Dracianna let out an un-ladylike bark of laugher.

"Yeah? Well, well, well your father says your femininity is getting out of hand," he exclaimed. "D'you know what he means by femininity, Dracianna?"

"He didn't say that, you said that when he was 'talking in your head,' you git. God, my mum probably thinks I've gone completely potty." She glared at him. "And since when do you call me by my first name, Potter?" Dracianna interrogated, placing great emphasis on the "Potter" bit.

Harry looked sheepish. "I-- uh-- it's a nice name."

Dracianna blinked. "Really? You think so?"

"I-- ah-- er," uttered Harry, "um-- I didn't mean anything-- I mean--"

"It's okay." Dracianna smiled. "Your name's not too bad either . . . Harry."

Harry grinned back, nervously.

Dracianna looked around the room. "Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"That thumping noise."

"No . . ." said Harry.

"Never mind. It's probably nothing." She turned to him in a businesslike manner. "Now. You're going to be me at the party, so you'll have to know what to do."

"Right," Harry agreed.

"So, when you get dressed, wear a suit, like my mum said. Father may hate muggles, but he has a weakness for expensive clothes of any type. And," she lowered her voice confidingly, "he thinks he looks quite smart in a suit. Like James Bond." Dracianna giggled (which was very odd, coming from Harry's fifteen-year-old boy body). "Trust me, he doesn't.

"Anyway, pick out a black suit and a white shirt, and wear any of the ties except the Looney Tunes one. My Aunt Mimsy gave it to me as a joke. It sings. Father tired to burn it once, but she'd put a no-harm spell on it."

"Will I have to gel my hair back into a chunk like you always do at school?-- I mean, ah, not that it looks bad in a chunk, it's just that-- er . . ." Harry tried to amend his unsightly slip-up.

"It's all right, I think it's horrid too," Dracianna reassured him. "Father says I'm to wear it that way if I want to keep it longish, but it's really disgusting. And you have no idea how much sodding gel I have to use . . . I'll do it for you tonight, if you want."

"Good idea," assented Harry. "You know, I think I can hear it now."

"What?"

"The thumping noise!" he said. "But I can't figure out where it's coming from."

"Yeah. Just leave it," Dracianna told him. "Listen, this is important: if Peter Pettigrew's there, please, avoid him at all costs."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Apart from the fact that his master's out to get me?"

"Let's just say that you'll be . . . ah . . . very upset if you go near him," she replied.

"Why?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it. Now just follow my advice, okay?"

"I want to know why I should do something before I decide to do it," Harry protested.

"Please, Potter, just shut up about it."

"I thought we were on a first-name basis," whined Harry, hurt.

"Not if you don't shut it!" Dracianna blared.

"But I want to know!" he persisted.

"All right, fine! You want to know? You stupid dolt! You just can't keep your pimply nose out of other people's business, can you? Well, he pinches my bum, okay?" shrieked Dracianna.

"WHAT?!"yowled Harry loud enough to be heard in Turkmenistan.

"The worst of it is, I'm not sure whether he thinks I'm a girl or he thinks I'm a boy," sighed Dracianna, calming down a bit.

"That bastard! That bloody piece of sodding dog shit! That disgusting, narsty, silver-handed, toad-eating, snivelling little GIT!!" Harry bellowed, leaping up. "Son of a blast-ended skrewt's piss! Balding, rat-masquerading, finger-missing, squinchy-faced mother--"

"Ah, Harry?" Dracianna asked, clamping a hand over his mouth, "It's not really that big of a deal."

"Yes it is!" he vociferated, freeing himself from her grip. "It's an insult to-- to your integrity! And your self-worth! And your freedom as an individual! It's disgusting! And demeaning! No one should treat you that way, no one, d'you hear me?!"

"Wow, Harry, you'd make a good feminist," remarked Dracianna dryly.

"If that bastard touches you again, I'll kill him! I'll kill that son of a bitch!" he gestured violently in the air.

"I don't see why it matters so much to you," she remarked. "It's my problem. I can take care of myself. I always cast an incontinence curse on him after."

"But-- but-- but he shouldn't-- you don't deserve it! It's not-- it's not okay!" Harry vociferated. "I don't want him to! And I'll kill him, I swear I will, if he does anything--"

Dracianna shook him by the shoulders. "Calm down, dammit! You'll bring the whole house running!"

Harry stared up at her (yes, it was up, as Dracianna was really Harry, and vice versa) in a very disconcerting way that could fairly have been described as "moony." Then he turned his head away. "I can't. It's too weird."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," said Harry quickly.

"Don't give me that. What couldn't you do?"

"Nothing."

"Spit it out, Potter. I told you the Pettigrew bit."

"Erm . . ." Harry muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"Huh?" inquired Dracianna.

"I was going to . . . er . . ." he faded off into a garbled murmur once more.

"Yes . . .?"

"Er . . . I was going to . . . ah . . . kizyoo."

"What?"

"Um . . . kizyoo."

"Speak up."

"Kiss you, okay?! I was going to kiss you! But it was too weird, what with your face being on my head and me over there and your head is my head and it's too weird and I can't kiss a boy, especially not myself!" Harry let this out very quickly, in a single breath. 

Dracianna turned bright, glowing, ultraviolet red. "YOU WERE GOING TO DO WHAT?" 

Harry twiddled his thumbs nervously. "Ah . . . nothing."

"You want kissing? You want KISSING? HOW ABOUT YOUR FACE KISSES MY BEDROOM FLOOR, POTTER?" Dracianna screamed and lunged at him.

"Aaaa! You can't hit me! I'm a girl!" squealed Harry, running away from her. "Eeeeek! Eeeek!"

"You disgusting PERVERT!!" Dracianna blared.

"You're violent!" panted Harry, still attempting to flee. "Ow! Leave me alone! Stupid-- ow!-- macho chick! No wonder your father makes you dress up like a boy! You go around hitting people all the time . . . OUCH!" With a loud crack and a bang, Harry, who had been to busy shouting over his shoulder to look where he was going, ran into the wardrobe, breaking it open and causing himself to fall rather painfully to the ground.

And all at once, the origin of the thumping noise was discovered. 

"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!! RON AND HERMIONE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

* * *

  
  


"Wait," exclaimed Harry thoughtfully. "You and Ron . . . you and Ron?"

"This is about the hundredth time you've asked me, and yes," Hermione replied, giving him a withering look. Dracianna, who was busy combing Harry's hair into her characteristic gel-plentiful chunk, snickered.

"Ah, I'd like to protest--" Ron started, but Hermione glared at him.

"Stop pretending it didn't happen, you git."

"I wasn't! I was just saying that maybe, perhaps, it was-- erm-- an accident," argued Ron.

"Oh, so you'd define snogging in a wardrobe as an 'accident,' eh?" Hermione said, crossing her arms. "And now I suppose you'd like to just forget about the whole thing! Didn't it mean anything to you?"

Dracianna sighed melodramatically and squirted the remnants of the gel tube onto Harry's head. "Ah, lover's quarrels."

"Oh, you should talk," Ron grumbled. "We heard what was going on out there. Didn't we, Hermione?"

"I'm not speaking to you," said Hermione. "But yes."

"Go bugger off!" spat Dracianna. "You were too busy exchanging saliva to hear anything, had anything happened, which it didn't, because this stupid arse and I," (she thunked Harry on the head with the hairbrush) "have a strictly professional relationship."

"Ow," said Harry, by way of agreement. He tried to rub his head, but Dracianna swatted at his hand with said brush.

"You'll muss it, you idiot. You have no idea what kind of effort has to go into a hairdo like this."

"Mrrrmph," Harry responded, looking very sour.

"Why are you so mad at me, Hermione?" asked Ron abruptly.

"I don't know, Ron. Why did you kiss me?" she snapped.

Dracianna let out a very demonic sort of cackle. "Excuse me, but, I'd say the word 'kiss' comes a bit short of describing what you two were doing in there."

"You know," Harry piped up, "I still can not get over the fact that you and Ron . . . like each other!"

"Potter," said Dracianna, hitting him on the head once again, "if you had a brain, it'd be microscopic."

"Hermione--" Ron attempted.

"Answer my question, Ron. Why did you kiss me?"

"Who says I was the one who started the kissing?" he replied defensively.

Dracianna widened her spectrum and gave Ron a solid whack on the crown as well. "Answer her question, you prat." 

"I don't think it's any of your business, Dracianna," Hermione told her viciously.

Ron nodded. "You're enjoying the whole subject way too much."

"Well," Dracianna returned nonchalantly, "I knew it was only a matter of time before you two got together."

"You did not!" Hermione cried, blushing.

"Well, all right, fine, I didn't. But I figured it'd be either you and him or you and Potter," amended Dracianna, "and I just can't see you with this lump." She indicated Harry with another tube of gel she had begun to squirt onto him.

"Why, because you saw yourself going out with him instead?" remarked Ron in suggestive tones. He and Hermione giggled in a most immature (Dracianna thought) fashion.

"Okay, that does it!" she shouted, throwing the hairbrush at him. "Either you tell your little girlfriend why you initiated that snogging session, or I'll punch you so hard that your nose will turn CONCAVE!"

Ron regarded her warily. 

"Wipe that insipid smirk off your face, Weasley!" screamed Dracianna. "And get me my BRUSH!!"

"She's gone homicidal," Ron related to Hermione.

"I'm still not speaking to you, Ron."

"Look, Hermione," he began apologetically, "it was dark, and, well, we were shut in, and-- um, you were . . . right there, you know, and it was kind of . . . er . . . it was kind of sexy, what with the dark and all, and, ah, it just sort of, uh, happened."

"The air was laden with raging hormones, all over the place, floating and bumping into each other," Dracianna translated, "and after a while the close proximity drove him so mad that he couldn't help but give in to his . . ." (she wiggled her eyebrows) " . . . animal instincts."

"That sounds like a passage from a trashy romance novel . . ." Harry pondered quietly. No one payed him any attention.

Hermione turned and glowered at Dracianna. "You: shut your mouth. And you--" she whirled on Ron, "if all you can say is that it was 'kind of sexy,' and that it 'just happened,' then you can go off and kiss some cheap, two-bit veela for all I care, since it seems like the only thing you were looking for was-- was-- entertainment!!" She let out a very odd noise that sounded like a mixture between a sob and a growl.

"I wasn't-- I mean-- it didn't-- I mean--"

"Oh, forget it, Ron! The whole thing obviously meant nothing to you, so don't try to pretend it did!" Hermione snarled.

"But-- Hermione-- it-- it-- it-- it--" Ron sounded terribly eloquent as he tried to get past his emotional constipation and say what he really meant.

"I can't talk about this right now!" wailed Hermione, and she fled into Dracianna's fluffy, pink bathroom. From the clicking sound that came from the door afterward, it could be assumed that she had locked herself in. 

There was a moment of silence. Then Harry said, in a miffed sort of way, "Hey! What do you mean, 'if' I had a brain, it'd be microscopic?"

"And he finally catches on," announced Dracianna grandly. "Ladies and Gentlemen, let's hear some applause for our own H. Potter, who has finally realised that he was insulted about five minutes ago."

Ron let out a melancholy sigh and flopped into a sitting position on Dracianna's bed.

"That was supposed to be a joke," she informed him, raising an eyebrow. "Not a funeral dirge."

Ron's only response was to scratch his chin glumly.

"Oh, leave off," said Harry. He walked over to Ron and sat down next to him. "Poor old bloke." 

"Things were going so well," observed Ron tragically.

"There, there." Harry patted his shoulder. "She'll get over it soon enough."

"But I--" 

"All right." A slightly blotchy Hermione flung open the bathroom door and stepped out. "I'm perfectly fine. I realise I let my emotions distract me from the real problem for a moment, but now I am fully ready to get on with business."

Ron regarded her mournfully. "Why the long face, Ron?" said Hermione vitriolically. "After all, you've just had a marvellous snog." She stuck her nose up into the air.

"You sure it was marvellous?" Dracianna intoned. Both participants in the aforementioned snog gave her identically murderous glares. "Eeesh. Sorry I asked."

"Now then," pronounced Hermione grandly. "The situation is this: Harry has to go to that party as Dracianna. However, he will fail utterly and everyone will think he's crackers if Dracianna doesn't help him play the rôle. But! If Dracianna does in fact accompany him, she will be captured and done all number of horrid things to immediately, seeing as she currently looks like Harry."

Harry leapt up. "Dracianna," he cried, gripping her by the shoulders, "you must stay here. I will forge on without your help. I cannot allow you to be endangered."

"Oh, and make me look like a loony moron?" She kicked him. "Clod!"

Hermione surveyed Ron, who was tragically avoiding meeting her eyes; Harry, who was rubbing his leg ponderously; and Dracianna, who was sneering at the former. "Excuse me," she said, "but this is important!"

"No it's not. We already know everything you've told us," said Ron glumly, and wished he hadn't.

"Oh," Hermione snarled, "I suppose you just know everything, Mr. Ronald Weasley! I suppose you just know bloody EVERYTHING!!"

"Hermione, for god's sake!" Dracianna exclaimed. "Stop shrieking!"

"I'M NOT SHRIEKING! I'M JUST TELLING THIS STUPID, BLOODY IDIOTIC BASTARD THAT I SUPPOSE HE KNOWS EVERYTHING!!"

"Hermione, I'm sorry--" Ron attempted morosely, but was squelched.

"DON'T SPEAK TO ME! DON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU STUPID, F--"

"Hermione!" Harry cried, clamping his hands over Dracianna's ears. "Let's preserve the delicacy of the ladies in this room!"

"Get off! Get off! Bloody hell!" Dracianna grumbled. "I want to hear!"

"I'm sorry!" Hermione shrilled. "I'm just very emotional right now!"

"Yes," said Dracianna dryly. "We can tell."

"H--" began Ron. Harry shushed him.

"Don't speak to her, Ron."

"Yes. Don't even look at her," added Dracianna helpfully.

There were a few minutes of silence while Hermione rushed back into the bathroom in order to sob and make crashing noises that sounded as if she were throwing shampoo bottles at the mirror. During this period Ron surrendered to looking so sad and like a beaten puppy that Dracianna was tempted to pat him on the head. Then there was a loud honk generated by Hermione blowing her nose, and she came back into the room and sat down quietly.

Following that came a few more moments of silence while Hermione rubbed at her nose self-consciously and Harry poked his wedge of gel-encrusted hair suspiciously and Dracianna swatted at her left hand to keep it from straying onto Ron's crown.

Then Harry cleared his throat. "Uh," he said, "so, er, what are we going to do?"

"Well . . . I had . . . I had sort of . . . an idea," said Hermione in a very small, sad voice.

"Which was?" Dracianna prodded.

"Well, um, we brought Harry's invisibility cloak--"

"What?" exclaimed Harry. "How-- how did you find it?"

"It was under your pillow, Potter," Dracianna replied. "Not the trickiest hiding place in the U. K., if you ask me."

"You pawed through my personal stuff!" Harry huffed.

"Yes, and found all your jockstraps and drew little happy faces on the cups," Dracianna told him, "and we took your undies and put them on all the suits of armour around the school. And then I personally drew a red moustache on your Rocky the Rabbit doll that you've slept with since you were three."

"Not Rocky!" he cried.

Dracianna gave him a quizzical look. "I was joking. All we did was get your cloak, and we didn't even have to hunt for it, because Ron'd seen you put it under your pillow."

"Oh." Harry wiped his brow in relief.

"Now what's this about 'Rocky'?"

"Nothing!"

"Anyway, Hermione, go on," said Dracianna, still regarding Harry with a considerably worried expression.

"Well, I thought that you, Dracianna, could follow Harry around while concealed beneath the invisibility cloak, and tell him what to do," Hermione explained.

"What about you and snoggy-boy there?" She indicated Ron with her head. The tips of Ron's ears turned a bright, flourescent red.

"Humph," said Hermione by way of a response.

"They could stay up here, in your room," Harry suggested.

"Oh no." Dracianna shook her head emphatically. "What happens if they get into a screaming fight or begin snogging again? What with all the noise they'd be making, someone would be bound to find them."

"Hey! Who says--" began Ron, but was interrupted.

"Harry, tell Ron I don't want to hear his voice," Hermione remarked snippily.

"Ron, Hermione doesn't want to hear your voice."

"I could hear her, Harry!"

Hermione turned to Dracianna in a businesslike manner. "Dracianna, we seem to be the only ones doing anything useful around here. Shall we continue solving the problems of these ungrateful lugs, do you think?"

"Oh, I suppose so," said Dracianna with a careless toss of her head. "Men. Really!"

"I agree," Hermione replied. "Anyhow, if you don't want me and . . . Ron," (she said the latter word with the utmost loathing) "to stay in your room, I suppose we'll all have to hide under the invisibility cloak."

"But can three people fit under it?" Dracianna asked.

"Well . . . it worked when we were younger. But I suppose it might be better to have only two. People under it, I mean. I think I ought to be the one accompanying Harry, personally."

"Heeey! Wait! How come you get to be un-invisible?" argued Dracianna.

"Well, obviously," said Hermione, "you can't be, because you look like Harry Potter. And your parents would probably recognize a member of the Weasley family, wouldn't they?"

"That's right," assented Dracianna. "And I suppose we could say you were . . .?"

"A friend from school . . ."

" . . . who came to visit . . . "

" . . . because I was worried about your sudden departure."

"Yes. But what friend from school, that's the real question," Dracianna pondered, stroking her chin in a very Sherlock Holmes-esque manner.

"Pansy Parkinson?" asked Hermione, naming the first female Slytherin who popped into her head.

"Bloody hell, NO," Dracianna exclaimed, shuddering. "Augh! Awful disgusting prat! Besides, my parents already know what she looks like."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Ah . . . hmmn. Oh! What about Millicent Bulstrode?"

"Splendid!" enthused Dracianna. "Fine idea! The Bulstrodes have an older son who's a squib, so most of us tend not to associate with them. Marvellous! No one will know that you aren't actually Millicent! The only problem is, people might ask you to recount the story of how your brother exploded your Auntie's Scottish terrier once." She pulled thoughtfully at a tuft of her hair. (It had been sticking up all evening [the hair, that is] and Dracianna was beginning to consider the benefits of hair gel on Harry's unruly mop.) "Hmmn. I wonder how we'll get out of that one?"

"I'll just stick my nose in the air," said Hermione, "and say I prefer not to talk about it because it involves acknowledging his existence."

"Oooh, that's lovely!" Dracianna gave her a congratulatory handshake. "Miss Granger, you may just make a brilliant snob someday."

"Well," said Hermione modestly, "I did learn from you, my dear." They let out a delicate, constrained sort of snorting giggle.

Harry and Ron, who had been consoling each other about their bad luck in love, perked up. "Wait," said Ron, "what was the plan? We didn't hear it."

"Harry," Hermione remarked scornfully, "tell Ron that if he doesn't think it worth his time to listen then the matter is probably above his level of intelligence anyway."

"Ron, Hermione says that if you don't think it worth your time--"

"I know what she said, dimwit! I do have ears!" Ron hit him over the head. 

"Harry, tell Ron that violence is the last thing we need in this situation," added Hermione.

"Ron, Herm-- OW!"

"Oh, shove off, you stupid git."

  
  


* * *

Authors' notes: Sorry this took a long time! We have lots of schoolwork! Chapter 5 is on the way! Thank you for all the reviews, they are quite funny and encouraging! (P.S.: a lot of people have been asking us if we know how to find Cassandra Claire's writings on the 'net. Our advice is to try typing in one of the titles of her works under google.net or mamma.com or some other search engine.)


	5. The Death Eater Soiree

HELLO EVERYONE!!

We lurve you all, and we were quite (pleasantly) shocked by the popularity of this story! We're SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry that we haven't updated in so long! Yes. We suck. Horribly. But! During this hiatus we have been endeavouring to work on our website, which brings us to our VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:

As of the end of this May, we will be leaving fanfiction.net. Sadly, we are just too lazy to maintain our account regularly, and so, we'll be operating now only from our website, DIRAGHI. We wrote you this chapter, though, and there are two more waiting for you at the site, so we hope you like them! The address is linked to our stats page; Draco Dracianna can be found in the Tributes section, under fanfiction. Thank you all!

Lurve,

The Travellers Incognito

(And here's what you ACTUALLY wanted … the next chapter!)

Chapter 5: The Death Eater Soiree

"Well," Hermione asked Dracianna, casting an uneasy glance at Harry's hair chunk (now hard and fairly fossilised), "are we ready to go down to supper, then?"

"Certainly not," replied Dracianna in a scornful drawl. "You look absolutely a fright. I won't stand for it. I would never be friends with a girl who looks like she's spent the last few hours crawling about in a rubbish tip!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, turning slightly pink. "I mean, really!"

"Well, it is a formal occasion," said Dracianna tactlessly. "It would be terribly improper, not to mention embarrassing, for you to go as you are."

"Belt up, Malfoy, it's not as if you look particularly flash yourself," remarked Ron grumpily. "After riding about in trains all bloody night and running through bushes besides, what d'you expect?"

"Thank you Ron, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself," Hermione told him stiffly, turning slightly more pink. To Dracianna she said peevishly: "And what do you suppose we do about this alleged 'state' I'm in, hmn?" 

"Well, I suppose you'll just have to wear one of my dresses. It'll probably be a bit short." She looked Hermione up and down ponderously. "And rather big in front … the waist might be slightly tight, as well."

Hermione gave her a murderous glare. Ron looked scandalised. 

"Yeah, Hermi," said Harry, who was adjusting his tie and observing himself in the mirror in a prissy, eerily Dracianna-esque way. "You'll have to suck it in a bit, I suspect. And you might want to put some toilet paper or something down your shirt - OW!"

"You're not allowed to comment on the size of my bosom!" Dracianna cried, whacking him on the head with a hairbrush. (Upon encountering the power of the Chunk, the hairbrush snapped in two.)

"I don't have to stand here and take this abuse!" Hermione exclaimed, stomping her foot.

Ron leapt up, and, very incensed, shouted, "Beautiful women come in all shapes and sizes!"

"Oh, thanks, Ron, now you're making it sound like I'm a bloody COW!"

"Wait! Hermione! I didn't mean it that way! I - ow! Gah! Owiee!"

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE," said Dracianna very loudly. "Could we just control the hormones in this room for one miserable SECOND?"

"It's not that!" cried Ron and Hermione at the same time. Harry looked at the shards of broken hairbrush on the floor in confusion.

"Look, Hermi," he informed her good-naturedly, "it's not that Dracianna's insulting you."

"No," Dracianna agreed. "I'm just stating the truth."

"She's just stating the truth," Harry continued. "Your figure is perfectly fine, dear. In fact, you're really a good-looking girl, in your own way."

"In her own way?" snarled Ron, and was quickly squelched by a glower from Hermione. 

"It's just that," Harry went on in the same maddeningly kind tone, "well, poor Dracianna can't help but be biased. And honestly, if I had her spectacular figure, why, I don't think I would be able to help being a bit biased as well."

"Oh, thanks, Harry, that's ever so reassuring." Hermione gave him a withering look.

"Might I remind you, Potter, that at the moment you do have my 'spectacular' figure, and that if you mention it ANY MORE, I will bash a gigantic hole in your abominably dense skull, so help me GOD?" hissed Dracianna murderously, squeezing a tube of hair gel so hard that it burst, covering her (Harry's) glasses with a gooey film of styling product. 

"Er," said Harry, watching as Dracianna wiped his glasses furiously on her shirt.

"Well, I can see what he looks for in a woman," Ron growled maliciously to himself. "Stupid sodding git. Wouldn't even be able to see her brain past her bloody huge ti - "

"Look," rumbled Dracianna, with a violent sense of finality. "Could we just get the ruddy dress, put ruddy Hermione in it, try to do something with her ruddy hair, and then go down to ruddy supper?!"

"Um," said Hermione.

"Capital idea," said Harry. "Brilliant, really."

"What the hell is wrong with her hair?" said Ron.

They went to it.

* * *

Hermione and Harry-as-Dracianna-as-Draco tromped down the stairs from Dracianna's room. They were followed by Dracianna and Ron, under the invisibility cloak, and from that general direction came periodic whispers of "Ow! Damn it, Weasley! Stop stepping on my toes!" and "Get stuffed, Malfoy!".

The dress situation had actually worked out rather well. Dracianna's extensive collection of gowns (bought for her, she explained, by her mother behind Lucius's back) was composed almost entirely of varying shades of pink. (Ron had snickered very loudly upon discovering this, to which Dracianna had replied, "At least my brother's not a great pouf!", at which point Harry had reminded her, in case she'd forgotten, that she didn't have a brother.) Hermione had refused, quite vehemently, to wear pink, and the situation had looked bleak, but just at that very moment; however, a dress of a rather yellowish persuasion had been discovered, and, upon receiving Hermione's half-hearted approval, they were in business once more.

The problem of height wasn't as bad as had been expected (Hermione being a bit vertically challenged herself). She just didn't wear shoes. Dracianna had tamed and removed all residual leaves and twigs from her hair, and had loaned her a thin gold bracelet and chain to wear. She actually did look quite pretty.

Ron was currently dividing his time between staring at Hermione openmouthed and cursing at Dracianna when she giggled.

"Hallo dear," exclaimed Narcissa, popping up all of a sudden at the bottom of the stairs in that disturbing manner she had. 

"Mum!" squealed Harry in a voice that was rather too high and enthusiastic. 

"Dear, your father is - who is this girl?"

"Er," said Harry intelligently. "Ah. Um."

"Hallo Mrs Malfoy I'm Millicent Bulstrode Draco's friend from school and I decided to ride the train out and visit because Draco was gone from school so suddenly and I was very worried and we go to Slytherin together and we're the best of friends and so I decided to ride the train out," babbled Hermione without once pausing or taking a breath.

"Oh. Well. Hmn," Narcissa replied in considerable puzzlement. "Really. Hmn."

"We're very good friends," said Harry shrilly, nodding with extreme speed. 

"Strictly platonic," added Hermione quickly.

"Yes. Platonic. Very platonic," Harry agreed.

" Strange … I never heard An - er, Draco, mention you before." Narcissa looked rather befuddled. 

"Well, we've only just become good friends during this school year," Hermione told her.

"Yes. Very recent. Very good. We became very recently friends very good. I mean, very goodly friends very recent. Good. Good friends. Good. Recently good," said Harry, not sounding at all suspicious.

"Oh." Narcissa smiled. "Why, that's just marvellous. You have no idea how lovely it is to see my Draco having some friends of the same se - ah - interests. That hulking Vincent and that ridiculously ugly Gregory were really quite bad for he - him."

"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy," said Hermione sweetly.

"Now, really, darling, you absolutely must call me Narcissa," Dracianna's mother cooed, taking the hands of Hermione and what she thought was her daughter. "By the way, Millicent, that's really quite a charming dress. Do you know, it looks rather familiar. I must have seen the same design in a shop somewhere …"

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was unnervingly happy to meet "Millicent." Ron, in fact, thought he was a bit too happy. "Miss Bulstrode! Simply lovely to make your acquaintance! I must say, it's refreshing to see young Draco finally getting a girlfriend."

"It's a strictly platonic friendship, Lucius," Narcissa told him icily.

"Nonsense!" he replied in jolly tones. "There's no such thing as a platonic friendship between a boy and a girl. Such an enchanting girl, too." He put his hand on Hermione's shoulder in a manner that was rather a bit too friendly, and she looked in the direction of the invisible Ron and Dracianna uncomfortably. "Simply delightful."

There was a sudden muffled explosion that sounded rather like "Goddamn dirty old fuaaAAAoww! Shit! Ow!" "Shut up! Shut up!" Lucius let go of Hermione and scratched his ear quizzically. Narcissa looked around the room in a vague manner. 

"Did anyone hear that noise?" she asked.

"What noise?" Hermione inquired, casting a look of revulsion on Dracianna's father and inching closer to Harry.

"Noise? No. Not at all. Heh." Harry chuckled nervously. "I didn't hear a thing. Nothing. I didn't hear the smallest, slightest, tiniest noise. I really didn't. At all. Nope. Huh-uh. Honestly."

Dracianna, who had crept up behind Harry while he was talking, stepped hard on his heel and hissed, "Knock it off, you sodding imbecile!" Harry yelped loudly. 

"For heaven's sake, Draco," said Lucius Malfoy sharply. "What is it now?"

"Er?" Harry replied, smoothing his Chunk. 

"I'm asking you, boy, why you cried out just then."

"Um, there was, um, a mou-ow-ow-OW-se!" Harry answered, as Dracianna kicked him once more. 

Lucius gave him a look of utter disgust. Narcissa lifted her skirts up slightly and searched the floor in a worried manner. "Is - is it still there?" she asked nervously.

"No," Harry said, rubbing his injured leg sullenly. "It's gone now."

"My dear," smarmed Lucius to Hermione, patting her arm detestably, "I am terribly sorry you had to see that. My abominable dunce of a son - " he gave Harry a dirty look " - has a rather weak and unmanly constitution. I, on the other hand, am very brave." He chuckled obnoxiously and winked at her, as if they were sharing a hilarious joke. Hermione gave him a smile that was more than half wince and grabbed Harry's arm violently. 

"Augh! Ow! What?" he exclaimed, whirling around quite rapidly and nearly falling down. "Oh, hallo Hermmillicent! Feel like a bite to eat, then?"

There were quite a few long tables arranged in what the plaque outside had proclaimed as the "Grande Malfoy Ballroom," and Harry and Hermione took two seats at the one reserved for hosts and guests of honour. Fortunately, they were sitting at one of the table's corners, meaning that Dracianna and Ron (the latter of whom had been twitching and clenching and unclenching his hands violently ever since Lucius had appeared) could fit easily behind them. Unfortunately, the only reason they were able to get seats at a corner was because Lucius was, naturally, sitting at the table's head, and had wanted his "son" placed next to him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Mr Malfoy announced grandly, rising from his seat and holding up his wine glass. "Fellow Death Eaters. I welcome you to this gala night of celebration!"

Polite clapping rose from the guests. "Stupid smarmy old bullock," muttered Ron darkly. Dracianna glared at him. 

"The time for the unmasking is at hand, my friends," Lucius continued. "No longer do we have to hide our identities from one another. Not now, no, not when the Dark Lord has once again called us to his side!" Harry, who had had a nervous and rather ill-looking grin plastered on his face ever since the start of Lucius's speech, began at this point to pick fervently at the loose threads of his napkin. 

"In fact, I have recently received word directly from the Dark Lord, via his servant Wormtail." Lucius gestured toward the end of the table, where, Harry noticed with a suppressed squeal and a large rip of his napkin, Peter Pettigrew himself was hunched over a tray of hours d'oeuvres.

At the mention of his name, Wormtail's head popped up, his ratty little eyes darting around in a paranoid manner. There was a large dollop of bloater paste on his nose. 

"Yes, um, that's Peter Pettigrew," he said anxiously. "I, er, I prefer being called P - Peter Peh - er - ah - that is - um - brilliant speech, Lucius." Under the scornful gaze of almost the entire table, Wormtail trailed off and went sloppily back to the company of his hours d'oeuvres. 

"As I was saying," Lucius went on, looking at Pettigrew as if he were something scraped off the bottom of a boot, "Wormtail here has informed me, directly from the very mouth of the Dark Lord, no less, that our days of secrecy are over. All Death Eaters are now to band together, to form a network, in order to better ready ourselves for the rapidly approaching day of his return to power."

Harry's napkin was in shreds by now. "Help!" he whispered to Hermione. "It's Peter Pettigrew! See him? He's right there! You've got to hide me!"

"Harry," Hermione hissed, "you look like Dracianna now. Don't worry."

"Don't worry? Don't worry? That's exactly WHY I'm worried!!"

"He can't reach your bum from there, you stupid clod," Dracianna told him disgustedly.

"Shhh!" said Hermione. 

"And, indeed, my friends, band together we must," continued Lucius, too self-important to notice the conversation going on right next to him. "For, our numbers are limited now. Some of us, tragically, are still imprisoned in Azkaban. Some of us," he said, a putrid expression coming to his face, "have stupidly shamed and disgraced the order. And some of us have committed the ultimate betrayal, the most heinous deed imaginable! Yes, some of us have dared to become errand-running little house elves for that feeble-minded old fool who stands as headmaster of Hogwarts School!"

A loud booing rose up from the audience. Peter Pettigrew squealed out, "Down with Dumbledore! Down with that long-bearded old git!" He was quickly squelched by a raised eyebrow from Lucius. 

By this point, Harry had abandoned his own napkin and was mutilating Hermione's. 

"But!" cried Lucius, and the room grew silent. "Even on the matter of Albus Dumbledore," (he said the name with the utmost revulsion) "there is hope. Indeed, a man whom we thought had betrayed us, an advocate, no less, of those who we despise, has recently come back into the Dark Lord's service. And now, he promises to inform us of goings-on at Hogwarts, and of Dumbledore's pathetic plans to thwart our master! Comrades, may I re-introduce him to you - Stand up, Severus!"

"THAT BASTARD!" screamed Ron. "I KNEW IT!!"

"Oh my God," gasped Hermione.

Harry fell off his chair.

At the opposite end of the table, his presence previously obscured by the gigantic square head of Vincent Crabbe, Senior, was Severus Snape, and he was staring right at them. 

* * *


End file.
